Writing on a Blank Slate
by Firebird9
Summary: Start of the long prequel to Familiar Strangers. When Sara decides to wipe the slate of her life clean and start over, Nick goes along for the ride. NS. Spoilers to first few eps S6. COMPLETE.
1. I can't do this anymore

**Epiphanies**

**Disclaimer:** I don't own CSI.

**Rating:** M – some sexual content in later chapters.

**Author's note:** This is the long prequel to a shorter fic, Familiar Strangers.

**Chapter One: "I can't do this anymore"**

"I can't do this anymore." Even as she said it, Sara realized it was true, that she had reached breaking point. Nick just looked at her and nodded slowly.

"Okay. So how are we going to handle this case?" There was no anger or mockery in his voice, just a gentle reminder that if his partner was going to have a break-down this would cause certain practical problems.

Sara bit her lip. "I can do this," she said with some determination, gesturing towards the corpse. "I can do this, tonight, but that's it."

"Okay. You want me to take the body and you can do the house?"

She smiled, relieved. "Thanks Nicky."

They had always worked well together, and it was good to be able to do so again, now that the nightshift had been reunited,so Sara was able to fall into the familiar pattern of painstaking evidence-gathering with ease, even as her mind screamed at her that she no longer wanted this to be 'familiar'.

She had made her escape plans a long time ago, idly at first, as a theoretical exercise, until it had dawned on her that this might actually work in practice. She hadn't intended to tell anyone what she was going to do, but looking at Nick, who kept shooting worried glances at her when he thought she wasn't looking, she realized that she was going to tell him.

She had her chance later that night when he cornered her in the break-room. He opened his mouth to speak, but she jumped in before he had the chance.

"I'm leaving, Nick."

His mouth snapped shut, his face registering shock and disbelief. "You're what?"

"Leaving. Going away. For good."

"When?" he managed.

"Today, after shift."

She hadn't realized until she told him that she would miss him. When she had made her plans she had only worried about missing Grissom and had quickly come to the conclusion that after everything that had – or hadn't – happened between them, she wouldn't.

For a moment, her resolve faltered.

'Leaving?' Nick's mind echoed in dismay. Sara Sidle – Miss Reliable, Miss Dedicated, Miss My-Work-Is-My-Life Sidle – was leaving? Leaving Las Vegas? Leaving – and this was an unexpected thought – him?

He stared at her, trying to work out exactly what he was feeling. Sara was his friend, as close as Warrick and in some ways closer because, as she was a woman, he had been able to share with her thoughts and feelings that he couldn't have shared with another man.

He had always enjoyed working with her; the way they seemed almost to read one another's minds at times, her razor-sharp intellect and seemingly endless supply of scientific and forensic knowledgethat had saved him hours of research over the years, the flirtatious banter that could liven up even the dullest shift, the sudden smiles that lit up her features with unexpected beauty.

'Whoa, back up there Stokes,' he told himself. 'Since when did you start falling for Sara?'. Because there was suddenly no doubt in his mind that this was exactly what he'd been doing.

"Nick?" Sara was eyeing him, confused by his silence. "You gonna say anything?"

"Uhhh…" Nick snapped back to reality. Sara was leaving, andthis was a lousy time to realize that he wanted to ask her out. "Where are you going?" he asked instead.

She shrugged. "To be honest, I haven't really thought about that bit yet. I'm just gonna drive, see where I end up."

"What are you going to tell Grissom?"

"Nothing. I'm just leaving him my resignation. I have vacation time owing; they can withhold that in lieu of notice."

The calm way she said it shocked him more than anything else had.

"You've thought about this," he accused.

"Yeah, a bit," she admitted.

"Ecklie's gonna pitch a fit."

"Whatever," she snorted. "He tries to cause any trouble I'll just claim I'm having a nervous breakdown. With my history, they'll believe it." She thought about this for a moment. "Who knows, maybe I am going crazy."

They looked at each other in silence for a moment, then Sara shrugged again and continued in a different tone of voice.

"Come onNick, duty calls."

He followed her out of the room in thoughtful silence.

To Sara's surprise, Nick seemed subdued as they finished their shift. He didn't joke or flirt with her as he usually did, but instead kept staring at her mournfully. It had never occurred to her that anyone might miss her, except in a professional capacity, and she felt badly to be hurting her friend.

"Nick?" she asked shortly towards the end of the shift. "Please don't be mad?"

"I'm not mad," he replied, although he was, a bit. "I just… I'm gonna miss you!"

She smiled sadly. "I'm gonna miss you, too." She sighed. "Listen, will you do me a favour? Tell everyone I'm sorry."

It was his turn to sigh. "Why, Sara?" He wasn't asking why she was sorry. "I mean, this isn't the most pleasant job in the world, but-"

"It isn't just that," she cut in. "It isn't just dealing with rape and murder and brutality night after night. It's the way things changed when the team was split up, and the way it's never really been the same since. It's Catherine pulling rank on me, and Grissom being Grissom, and Ecklie being an asshole. It's the fact that even after five years in Vegas it still doesn't feel like home, and I don't think it ever will."

To her surprise, just saying it all out loud made her feel like crying. She waited for Nick to say something, but he remained silent, and, after a moment, turned and walked away. It hurt to watch him go, but she drew a deep breath and swallowed the pain. She was used to being alone.


	2. Take me with you

**Epiphanies**

**Disclaimer:** I don't own CSI.

**Rating:** M – some sexual content in later chapters.

**Chapter Two: "I want to come with you."**

Nick caught up with Sara as she was heading for her SUV.

"Sara, wait!"

She froze, closing her eyes. "Nick, I already made up my mind."

"I know. I want to come with you."

"What?" Now it was her turn to be shocked. "Why?"

"Because you're right," he told her. "It isn't just the blood and the death and the violence. It's not even just the way everything changed when Ecklie busted up the team." He ran a hand through his hair. "It's everything. It's being stalked by a psychopath, and held at gunpoint, and falling for a woman and then seeing her get killed. Not to mention being abducted and buried alive. It's realizing that this is what I consider normal now."

He paused, then continued more softly. "It's realizing I want to see Normal again, before I forget what it really looks like."

Sara nodded. "Okay."

"Okay?" he repeated, and she nodded again.

"Okay. I'll pick you up some time this afternoon." She gave him a wry smile. "If you change your mind you can make your own way back to Vegas."

It was only when he arrived home that Nick realized what he intended to do, and that he didn't have a clue what he was meant to be doing. How did you go about preparing to run away from a life you were suddenly sick of?

He rang Sara, who answered with "If you're calling to tell me you've changed your mind…"

"I'm not," he reassured her. "I just,uh, I have no idea what I'm meant to be doing right now."

He could actually picture her rolling her eyes.

"Packing," she told him. Hearing the uncomprehending silence from his end, she elaborated. "Pack some clothes and stuff. Maybe a sleeping bag, and a couple of boxes of whatever you really don't want to put into storage. Whatever."

"Okay. Thanks." He hung up and looked around, hardly knowing where to start.

Four hours later, he nodded, satisfied. He had taken her advice and started with clothes and a sleeping bag. The 'whatever' had proven more difficult. In the end he had grabbed some cartons left over from his last move and started in the living-room. Photographs, CDs, coffee mugs, a football, his college jacket and yearbook, a baseball bat, a chess set, books…

By the time he had decided that everything else could be left for Warrick to put into storage it was lunchtime.

His cell-phone rang, and he was unsurprised to see it was Sara.

"Checking up on me?" he asked.

"Just reminding you that you need to cancel your utilities," she told him. "And clean out your fridge as well."

He shook his head. "You have thought about this way too much," he told her.

"I'll meet you at the lab in about an hour."

"The lab?"

"We need to drop off our resignations and the keys to our SUVs, and hand in our side-arms," she reminded him.

Sara had packed up her life in a fraction of the time it had taken Nick. For one thing, she had thought about it before, and, for another, her life had left her with more she wanted to forget than to remember. Apart from her handbag and a backpack forher clothes, two small cartons held everything that she considered worth keeping.

When she had finished she walked out of her apartment and down the street to the used car lot, where she bought a battered-looking Ford station-wagon for about $2000 less than the dealer wanted after pointing out to him in her best Hurricane Sara manner that this was roughly what she would need to spend on repairs in the near future if she wanted it to continue to function as a car rather than, say, an interesting piece of modern art.

She drove it back to her place and loaded it up, then rang Nick to let him know he should meet her at the lab.

Nick looked puzzled when he saw her pulling up in a station-wagon rather than her SUV.

"I thought we were leaving our vehicles here?"

"I'm dropping off my keys," she told him. "They can collect it from outside my apartment. Do you have your resignation?"

He made a face. "I knew I'd forgotten something."

"Here." She handed him a piece of paper. "I made a spare copy. You just have to sign it."

They transferred Nick's stuff from his vehicle to the station-wagon. Nick raised an eyebrow at the sight of Sara's few possessions looking almost forlorn beside his much larger haul.He wonderedhow she could have so little that she considered worth keeping. Then they headed into the lab.

A few members of the day shift stared at them curiously as they made their way to Grissom's office, but no-one thought to ask them what they were doing at the lab in the middle of the afternoon. The nightshift had a reputation for eccentricity.

They left their letters and their keys on the desk and handed their side-arms in to ballistics, knowing that they would be safe there until they could be passed on to PD. Then they walked back out into the parking lot andgot into the car.

"Are we really doing this?" Nick asked suddenly, and Sara slumped slightly at the wheel.

"I'm really doing this, Nick," she replied, trying to swallow her disappointment at the thought that he might not be coming after all, "but you don't have to."

He drew a deep breath andgrinned. "Let's go."

She grinned back, started the engine, and turned on the radio. Eighties rock blasted as they left their old lives behind them and set off to see what would come next.


	3. Is this a joke?

**Writing on a Blank Slate**

**Disclaimer:** I don't own CSI.

**Rating:** M – some sexual content in later chapters.

**Author's note:** This is the long prequel to a shorter fic, Familiar Strangers.

**Chapter Three: "Is this a joke?"**

"Sara not in tonight?" Warrick asked, looking around the table.

Catherine was there, reading a glossy magazine and sipping a cup of coffee, not a hair out of place this early in her shift. Greg was there too, reading the funnies from a paper someone from day-shift had left lying around. Nick wasn't there, but he had the night off, and Warrick had passed Grissom on his way in. But of Sara there was no sign.

Catherine shrugged at his question, somehow managing to indicate with that simple gesture that Sara's whereabouts was supremely unimportant to her. Greg, however, looked up with a puzzled frown.

"Maybe she came in early and forgot shift was about to start?" he suggested.

At that moment, Grissom stuck his head round the door.

"Catherine, can I see you in my office please?" he asked without preamble.

Catherine shrugged, rose, and followed him. He didn't say a word, just led the way to his office and indicated that she should have a seat.

"What's this about, Gil?" she asked, puzzled. He didn't reply, just slid two sheets of paper across the desk towards her. "What are these?"

"Resignations." He spoke at last. "Nick and Sara have both resigned, effective immediately."

His voice betrayed no emotion, and Catherine drew both letters towards her, frowning now in disbelief. They were both brief, typed and to the point. They were also identical, and completely impersonal. 'Due to emotional and psychological stress I hereby resign, effective immediately. Please withhold my holiday pay in lieu of notice.' One was signed 'Nicholas Stokes', the other 'Sara Sidle'.

"Is this a joke?" Catherine asked.

"I already tried calling them," Grissom replied. "There was no answer at Nick's place. Sara's phone has been cut off."

"Did you try their cell-phones?"

"Not yet. How are we going to handle this?"

She thought for a moment.

"If this was an investigation, what conclusions would we be drawing, based on the evidenceto hand?" she asked, then answered her own question. "If Sara's had her phone cut off, it's a safe bet she's left Las Vegas and doesn't intend to return. She isn't the sort of person who would let her phone get cut off by accident.

"Given that they've both resigned on the same day, and Nick doesn't appear to be home either, it's possible that they've left together." She thought about this for a moment. "Although, Nick could just be giving her a lift somewhere before going his own way."

"Sara wouldn't just quit out of the blue. She'd think about it first." Grissom sounded confused, and hurt. "Why wouldn't she say anything to me, Cath?"

Catherine had her own theory about that, but now wasn't the time to air it.

"Sara's a planner," she agreed. "But she's also a loner. For her and Nick to plan this together would be out of character for her."

"Nick and Sara worked together last night," he observed. "I gave them the assignment sheet myself."

"What was the case?" Catherine asked, unable to recall.

"Pretty standard. Male DB, gunshot wounds, suspicious circs."

"Not a rape or a battered wife?" She was surprised.

"Not one of Sara's usual flashpoints, no. And Nick?"

"Nick's the sort of person who could do something like this on the spur of the moment, especially lately."

They were both silent for a moment, thinking of his recent abduction. The normally cheerful and confident CSI hadn't really been the same since.

"He might up and leave without warning," she decided, "but Sara wouldn't."

"Making her the instigator." This,he thought, was the hardest thing to accept, that Sara could deliberately plan to leave without warning, and that she would share her plans with Nick, but not him.

"Not that that makes a difference," Catherine observed, anger beginning to replace her shock. "Unless she abducted him at gunpoint, which is highly unlikely, he still left of his own free will, making him equally culpable." She groaned. "Ecklie's gonna have a field day with this."

"Tell me about it," Grissom agreed with a sigh. "What are we going to do?"

She shrugged. "There's not much we can do. We need to get in contact with them as soon as possible, and make a note of the calls and what's said. Otherwise we just give Ecklie more ammunition. And we need to get the rest of the shift underway, or he'll kick up a fuss about that, too."

She saw the look on her colleague's face.

"Do you want me to call them?" she asked in a kinder voice.

"Thanks," he gave her a sad smile. "I'd appreciate it if you'd be the one to call Nick, but I think I should be the one to talk to Sara."

"Now?" she asked, and he sighed.

"No time like the present."


	4. North or south?

**Writing on a Blank Slate**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own CSI.

**Rating:** M for later content (please note that this is a precautionary measure: I don't plan on getting too carried away!), and an expletive in this chapter.

**Chapter 4: "North or south?"/"There never was an 'us'."**

"Okay Nick, north or south?" Sara asked.

"What?"

"North or south?" she repeated and grinned. "I told you, I'm just gonna drive."

Nick shook his head in disbelief. This was Sara, the woman he had known for five years, the woman who planned two nights in advance what she was going to have for dinner.

He considered suggesting they head south, to Mexico, but dismissed the idea. Mexico was a place for plans: visit the pyramids, hit the beach, get wasted on tequila. Plans didn't appeal to him just now.

"North," he told her decisively.

And that was how Nick and Sara ended up going north.

It was Nick's cell-phone that rang first.

"Nick, what the hell?" He would rather have dealt with Grissom, but it was Catherine, and she sounded pissed.

"I'm sorry Cath, but I had to."

"Bullshit." Catherine's answer was, as ever, short and to the point. "No-one 'just has to' quit their job out of the blue without even a phonecall. You have a contract, Nick."

Nick snorted. "Now you sound like Ecklie. Who, by the way, can shove my contract up his ass."

"It's your ass that's gonna be in trouble. You know Ecklie'll sue you for this."

"He can try, Cath. Read my resignation. I'm pretty sure an employment tribunal would decide I'm having a break-down. Hell, maybe I could sue him for not noticing I was going mental."

He paused, then continued more softly. "Look, Catherine, I really am sorry, but I just can't handle it anymore."

Catherine was quiet for a moment, her mind once again flashing back to those images of Nicky, her Nicky, trapped and helpless in a plexiglass coffin. She sighed and nodded. "I understand. Just stay in touch. I mean that as a friend."

Nick felt a lump in his throat. "I will, I promise. You take care, and give Lindsay a kiss goodbye from me."

He hung up.

Sara's phone rang a couple of minutes later, and she pulled over and gestured to Nick to take the wheel.

"Grissom, hi."

"Sara," Grissom's voice was concerned. "Are you alright?"

She nodded. She had been imagining this conversation for years, only now she wasn't sure she remembered the script.

"I'm fine Grissom, really. Better than I have been in a long time."

"Are you sure Sara? Because quitting your job – the job you love – with no warning doesn't seem 'fine' to me."

"You know what they say about there being no hatred stronger than that which is born of disappointed love? I didn't want that to be me."

"Are you talking about the job, or us?"

She smiled sadly. "There never was an 'us', Grissom."

She hung up in silence.

By midnight they had been driving for hours, mostly in companionable silence, and were both starting to yawn heavily.

"You want me to pull in at the next motel?" Nick asked.

"Yeah," Sara nodded, "that'd be good."


	5. I'm looking for a home

**Writing on a Blank Slate**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own CSI.

**Rating:** M for later content

**Chapter 5: "I'm looking for a home."**

Sara awoke the next morning momentarily disoriented. Then a sense of where she was returned, and she smiled. She had made her escape. She showered, then went to knock on Nick's door. As she approached she saw that there was a note stuck to it, and her heart skipped a beat. Had he changed his mind after all? A look at the message, however, reassured her.

'Sara: relax! I've just gone to get breakfast. Nick'

"Hey!"

Nick's voice, calling from behind her, made her turn. He was holding two cups of coffee and a paper bag.

"You realize we only have ten minutes until checkout time?" she asked.

He shrugged. "So we'll eat in the car. No big deal."

There didn't seem to be much point in varying their route, so they continued heading north.

"So," Nick asked after a while, "you really don't have any idea what you're looking for, huh?"

"Honestly? I know it sounds silly, but I'm looking for a home, a place where I can belong. I've never had that before."

A day earlier, wild horses wouldn't have dragged that admission from her, but now that they were on the road she supposed she should start being honest about her mission.

"Not even when you were a kid?" he asked. Sara's life was a closed book, and he was determined to at least get a peek inside the cover. She was silent for a while, long enough that he thought perhaps she wasn't going to answer.

"I didn't have the greatest childhood," she finally admitted softly. "I remember when I was very little it was okay. Not perfect, but okay. But then my parent's B&B burned down." She shrugged. "We lived in a small town, and there wasn't much work around. Mom ended up housekeeping in a hotel and dad-" she broke off. "Dad just got more and more frustrated," she finished.

She glanced at Nick, and saw compassion and understanding in his eyes.

"He hit you," he supplied. "Your mom too."

Sara nodded. "Yeah. Eventually someone noticed the bruises, and I ended up in foster care." Her throat tightened at the memory. "So I went from this B&B that was too public to be a home, to this scummy rental that was too hellish to be one, to foster care, which was…"

She trailed off. At some point in her tale Nick had turned off the radio. Now he reached over and placed his hand over hers on the steering wheel. He didn't say anything, but the touch of his hand, large and warm and slightly calloused, brought a faint smile to her lips.

After a moment she cleared her throat and continued in a stronger voice.

"Anyway, I figure if I drive long enough maybe eventually I'll hit on a place that could be home."

Nick nodded. "You know, that sounds like a pretty good plan."


	6. This job was killing you

**Writing on a Blank Slate**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own CSI.

**Rating:** M for later content

**Chapter 6: "This job was killing you."**

Warrick called them later on the second day.

"Hye Nick, what's going on?" Warrick would never have admitted it out loud, but he was deeply hurt by what his friends had done. Nick, the people person, seemed to sense it anyway.

"Driving," he answered. "We're driving north on – hey Sara, what route are we on now?"

He received a shrug in reply. Sara hadn't really been paying attention, but she had decided that maybe it was time to buy a map.

"Anyway," Nick continued, "we're headed north. I'm sorry I didn't call you man, but I just didn't know what to say, you know?"

Warrick nodded. "So, you and Sara, huh?"

Nick chuckled. "Aw, it's not like that."

"But you'd like it to be." Nick didn't answer. "Nick, c'mon, you know you're sweet on her. You just ran away with her; you might as well admit it."

"I'm not saying anything."

"About what?" Sara asked.

"Nevermind," Nick told her. "Listen, Warrick, can you apologize to everyone for us? You know, to Greg and Doc Robbins and Brass?"

"You should call Greg. He's pretty gutted."

"Yeah." Nick nodded. "Can I ask another favour too?"

"Depends what it is."

"Any chance you and Greg could pack up my apartment for me. You know, put my stuff into storage? You can sell the furniture and the TV and stuff: the money should pay the storage costs for the rest."

"Nick, are you sure? I mean, your stuff-"

"Yeah, 'Rick, I'm sure. I don't know how long it'll be before I need it sent on and there's no point paying rental on a house I'm not using."

"Okay, no problem. Anything else I can do?"

"No, that's it. Thanks man. You wanna talk to Sara?"

"Yeah, thanks."

Sara took the phone one-handed, keeping the other firmly on the steering wheel.

"Warrick, how are you?"

"Asides from losing two of my best friends in one fell swoop?" His tone was light, but Sara winced.

"Warrick, I'm sorry, I-"

"Hey, I understand. This job was killing you."

Her heart jumped at hearing it put so bluntly.

"Yeah," she agreed, "it was."

Warrick chuckled. "You take care, okay? Keep Nick in line: you know what he's like."

She laughed. "Yeah, I know. Look after Greg for me, okay?"

He grinned. "Will do. Later girl."

"Later." She handed the phone back to Nick, who was still grinning over something Warrick had said. She made a mental note to try and get it out of him later.

Hisphone rang again a few moments later. He looked at the caller display.

"Ecklie," he told her.

"Don't answer it," Sara suggested.

Her own phone rang next, and she turned it off without a word. Conrad Ecklie had never yet said anything that she wanted to hear.

Several days passed. The further they drove from Las Vegas the better they both felt, and the closer they grew. They stopped racing to make ground and started taking short detours to stop at lookout points and interesting towns. On the third day Nick, who was taking his turn behind the wheel, broke off from the joke he was telling to ask:

"Hey Sara, are we driving all the way to Canada? Because if we keep on heading north, that's where we're gonna end up."

Sara thought about this for a moment.

"Have you ever been to Canada?" she asked him.

"Nope," he shook his head. "Have you?"

"Nope." She grinned. "Keep driving."

"Yes ma'am."


	7. We're in Canada!

**Writing on a Blank Slate**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own CSI.

**Rating:** M for later content (please note that this is a precautionary measure: I don't plan on getting too carried away!)

**Author's note:** Wow! Thank you so much for the great reviews! It's so encouraging to hear that people are enjoying this fic squashes head back down to normal size Special thanks to those who have been posting multiple reviews - it's good to know people are reading past the first chapter. Noa: as you can see, they are indeed coming toCanada, but please don't expect too much detail. I've never been fortunate enough to have the opportunity to visit your country, and I'd hate to get the details wrong, so please forgive me if I'm a little vague.

**Chapter 7: "We're in Canada!"/"This is awkward."**

They crossed the border into Canada a few days later. Sara was at the wheel for this momentous event and, once through the border checkpoint, she pulled over at a layby and got out.

"We're in Canada," she said, looking around as though she couldn't quite believe it.

"Yeah," Nick agreed.

Suddenly she spun to face him with a whoop.

"We're in Canada!" she yelled.

"Yeah!" he yelled back, sweeping her into a bear-hug.

He half-expected her to pull away, but instead she hugged him back and the growing attraction that he had been feeling for her ever since they had left Las Vegas overwhelmed him. He kissed her.

At the feeling of Nick's lips on hers Sara froze. But only for a moment. Then she kissed him back with every bit as much enthusiasm as he was showing for her.

Their lips locked together for what seemed like an eternity, hungrytongues probing, initial passion giving way to slower, more exploratory kisses. At last they drew apart, both breathless and grinning like idiots.

Nick tried to speak first but could only manage an inarticulate "Unhhhhh."

"So. Umm," Sara replied. She cleared her throat and tried again. "Well, this is awkward."

"Is it?" Nick asked.

She bit her lip, suddenly unsure of herself. This was Nick, someone she had known for five years and, much as she liked him as a friend and might have liked to have him in her life as more than that, she was only too aware of his reputation as a lady's man. The last thing she needed at the start of her new life was to get her heart trampled on and lose a friendship in the process.

"Well, yeah," she said, trying to find the words to express her confusion. "I mean, here we are, cut off from our normal lives, no-one else around, no rules. Nothing to stop us fromruining our friendship completely."

"Who said anything about ruining it?" Nick reached out and took her hand. She refused to meet his eye, and he sighed. "This is because of my reputation, isn't it? You're afraid I'm just gonna use you and abandon you, right?"

She didn't say anything, but she did nod her head, eyes fixed firmly on her shoes. He sighed again, frustrated.

"Sara, I wouldn't do that to you. I promise. You mean way too much to me." She still didn't look up, and he realized that she thought this was just a line. "You're my best friend, Sar," he reminded her gently. "The only reason I left Las Vegas is because I realized I didn't want to be there without you."

He rubbed the backs of her hands with his thumbs. "And yeah, okay, I haven't exactly been Mr. Perfect with girls in the past, but that _is_ the past Sara. I promise." He gave a wry smile. "You know, I can't even remember the last time I went on a date."

She did look up then, just a quick, surprised glance before she went back to examining her shoes, but it was enough to encourage him.

"Give me a chance Sara. Please?"

They were both silent for a moment and then, to his dismay, her shoulders shook and a teardrop fell onto his hand.

"Oh, Sara," he whispered gently, cupping her chin with his hand and raising her face to meet his gaze. He used his thumbs to wipe the tears from her cheeks. She just looked at him, her face a picture of misery, before lowering her gaze again.

"I can't face getting hurt again, Nick," she told him. "First Grissom, then Hank… I can't go through that again."

"You won't have to," he replied softly. "I'm not gonna do that to you Sara." He ran his palms back down her arms to her hands and clasped them gently. "I love you too much to do that."

At that, her head snapped back up, her gaze meeting his squarely for the first time.

"What did you say?"

Nick swallowed, aware that he had just broken one of the cardinal rules of relationships: no matter how in love you are, never, ever admit it on the first date. And this wasn't even a date. It was, however, the truth. Of that much he was certain. He loved her. Maybe he always had, ever since the day she arrived in Las Vegas. He'd just been too stupid to see it until she'd announced that she was leaving.

Sara's heart was beating so hard that she was certain Nick would hear it. He loved her? That didn't make sense. They were friends, nothing more. She wasn't his type. And yet… and yet, she remembered the expression onhis face when she had said that she was leaving Las Vegas, and his determination to come with her, even though it meant walking away from his home and his job and everyoneand everythingthat had made up his life in Las Vegas.

"I said I love you, Sara," his voice broke into her thoughts. "I don't know, maybe I always have.So please, give me a chance to prove it?"

His eyes were puppy-dog eyes, wide and on the verge of tears. Nick was always the one to wear his heart on his sleeve, and she couldn't say no when he was looking at her like that. She swallowed nervously, then nodded, her gaze still fixed on his.

"Okay."

An incredible grin broke over his face, and she realized that she was grinning too. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close.

"You won't regret it Sara. I promise."

He held her for a long moment, then moved back slightly, searching her face. She couldn't stop herself from smiling at him, and he leaned in and kissed her once more. Then he turned, wrapping his arm around her shoulder and looking out at the view before them.

"So, Canada huh? Doesn't look so different from home."

She grinned at him. "So let's drive to where it does."


	8. I'm in no rush

**Writing on a Blank Slate**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own CSI.

**Rating:** M for later content (please note that this is a precautionary measure: I don't plan on getting too carried away!)

**Chapter 8: "I'm in no rush."**

The kept stealing glances at one another all day. Nick's hand seldom left Sara's thigh, where it rested as naturally as if he had been placing it there for the last five years. When they had to stop at an intersection he leaned across and kissed her until the driver in the car behind honked his horn in impatience.

When a love song came on the radio he sang along, grinning at Sara the whole time until she was laughing so hard she had to pull over. After that she had him drive and it was her turn to rest her hand on his thigh.

They walked into the motel reception area that night hand in hand, still laughing.

"Double room?" the motel clerk asked in a tone of voice that clearly indicated that he really couldn't care less.

That silenced both of them. It wasn't that the thought of sex hadn't crossed both their minds that day – it had, repeatedly – but it was still less than twenty-four hours since their first kiss.

"Sara?" Nick asked, putting the ball in her court. Given the doubts she had expressed that morning he wanted to make it clear that he wasn't just trying to get her into bed.

She hesitated, biting her lip in her classic 'nervous' face, and he decided for her.

"Two rooms, thanks."

The clerk shrugged again and passed them their registration forms. The relieved smile on Sara's lips told Nick that he had made the right decision.

She found her voice on the way back to the car.

"Hey, Nick?"

He smiled at her. "Yeah?"

"Thanks."

He squeezed her hand and nudged her playfully with his shoulder.

"Hey, I'm in no rush." He wrapped his arm about her and squeezed her close. "Far as I'm concerned, we've got all the time in the world."

"Nick?" she asked again, stopping.

"Yeah?"

"I love you too."

His grin widened and he hugged her again, then pulled away. "C'mon darlin', let's get to bed. We've got a whole country waiting for us tomorrow."

It was only later, as she lay staring at the ceiling and replaying the events of the day in her head that she realized he had called her 'darling.'

The next morning Nick rolled over and reached for Sara, coming fully awake when he realized that she wasn't there, and only then remembering that she was in the next room. He smiled and rolled onto his back, clasping his arms behind his head as his mind drifted back over the day before.

He could understand her insecurities, he thought, especially given her history with Grissom and Hank, not to mention the fact that she had spent part of her childhood in foster care. Life hadn't really given her much to feel secure about up until now, and he was determined that things would be different from now on.

Strange to think that while he had been growing up in Texas surrounded by a loving family, on the other side of the country a young Sara had been spending her childhood alone, unloved and abused. His smile faded at the memory of the one truly dark cloud over his own happy youth. That alone had caused him enough pain over the years: he couldn't imagine how Sara, or any other victim of repeated abuse, must feel.

The sound of singing interrupted his thoughts before he could get too depressed, and he smiled. Sara must be in a good mood if she was singing in the shower.


	9. You didn't inherit your brains

**Writing on a Blank Slate**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own CSI.

**Rating:** M for later content (please note that this is a precautionary measure: I don't plan on getting too carried away!)

**Chapter 9: "You didn't inherit your brains from your father."**

"Hey Nick?" Almost a week had passed since their kiss, and they were now driving east across Canada, having realized that the Ford probably couldn't handle a trip to the North Pole.

"Yeah?"

"Do you think it's possible for someone to be genetically criminal?"

Her tone was light, but the question had come out of the blue, and that was enough to put Nick on his guard. In spite of the new level of intimacy between them he still had the feeling that she was holding something back – heck, he thought she was holding a lot back – and he wondered if this line of questioning might shed some light on the dark regions of her past.

He stole a quick glance at her, noting the set expression on her face and the way her hands clasped the wheel far more tightly than was necessary. Yes, something was definitely up.

He shrugged, trying to be casual.

"I guess that depends on the type of criminal you're talking about," he told her. "I mean, an out and out psychopath, yeah, I think there has to be something pretty fundamentally wrong there, but as for the rest, well, I don't see how there can be."

"So you don't think having a criminal for a parent might predispose someone towards committing a criminal act themselves?"

Again, he phrased his answer carefully, grateful that theirs had been a line of work that inevitably raised questions like these. It wasn't as though he had never thought about the subject before.

"I guess in a way it might," he admitted, and saw her shoulders twitch slightly. "But it's the whole nature/nurture thing, isn't it? It's not genetics that makes the child of a criminal into a criminal, it's growing up in an environment where crime is considered normal."

He paused, then drew a deep breath.

"What's this about, Sara?" he asked gently.

She gave a wry smile, her eyes still fixed on the road.

"Am I really that transparent?"

He nodded. "Yeah, I'm afraid so."

She sighed. "Okay. You remember how I told you that my parent's B&B burned down?"

She glanced at him, and he nodded.

"Well, it wasn't an accident. They were in financial trouble, so my dad decided to burn it down for the insurance money." She gave a brief snort of bitter laughter. "Didn't take the insurance company long to figure out what had happened, so we never got any money. And dad ended up in prison for a while."

She glanced at Nick, and was surprised to see he was smiling slightly.

"What's so funny?" she asked.

He looked at her and grinned.

"If you ask me, the only thing that proves is you didn't inherit your brains from your father."

She thought about that for a moment, then burst out laughing.

"You know, I never thought of it that way before."


	10. We only have the one

**Writing on a Blank Slate**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own CSI.

**Rating:** M for later content (please note that this is a precautionary measure: I don't plan on getting too carried away!)

**Chapter 10: "A very sexy brunette."/"We only have the one."**

Nick was still determined not to rush things, and Sara was just as keen to keep things from going too far too soon, so even after two weeks as a couple they were still sleeping in separate motel rooms. However, this hadn't prevented them from ending up in some exceedingly passionate embraces, and only the fact that this always happened in public places had prevented things from going further. In a further effort to keep things under control, they had deliberately resisted the urge even to hang out in the same motel room once they stopped for the night, choosing instead to head for the nearest diner, bar or cafe.

Nick had promised himself that he wouldn't be the one to suggest sharing a room, but it was difficult when he was spending almost every waking moment with Sara. Still, asides from the fact that he considered her perfectly capable of abandoning him by the side of the road in the middle of nowhere, he was rapidly coming to the conclusion that he couldn't face the idea of losing her, and if a bit of frustration was the price he had to pay then he was more than willing to pay it. He wondered if she felt the same way about him.

He was jolted from his reverie by a strange sound coming from the engine, followed by a muttered curse from Sara as she pulled over. They exchanged a glance and got out.

She popped the hood, and they both stared at the engine of the Ford, which was steaming slightly. Nick grinned wryly.

"Guess it's time we tried out that tool-kit of yours," he suggested.

Half an hour, several more curses, some oil smears and one burned hand later, they had reached the conclusion that, with a little luck, they might just make it back to the nearest town. Nick held a flannel soaked in water over his injured hand as they limped towards their destination.

"Nick, I'm sorry," Sara began. "I knew the engine wasn't good: we should have stopped for repairs days ago."

"Hey, don't worry about it," he replied in a slightly strained voice. "We both wanted to keep moving; I'm every bit as much to blame as you are."

"Yeah, but it's my car."

"Aww, and I thought you were gonna share." In spite of the pain in his hand, Nick cast fake puppy-dog eyes at her.

"You want a share in this heap of crap?" she asked in disbelief.

"I'll have you know I've had some very good times in this car."

"What, you're been sneaking blondes in here when I wasn't looking?" Sara teased, and he chuckled slightly.

"No, but I have been spending a lot of time with a very sexy brunette."

In spite of their current predicament,she grinned.

Holding the car to the fifty miles and hour that seemed to be all it could take, it took them just over an hour to reach the town they had passed through not long before the car died. Nick had fallen silent some time earlier and Sara was determined that, no matter how tough he tried to be, his hand would be her first priority just as soon as they'd found a place to stay.

The first three motels they passed were showing 'no vacancy' signs, and Sara swung in at the fourth. Nick followed her into the office, his face for once devoid of a smile.

"Hi," Sara addressed the motel clerk. "We saw your sign. We'd like two rooms for the next" – she considered Nick's hand and the repairs – "three nights."

"Oh, I'm sorry hon," the middle-aged lady behind the counter replied. "We only have the one. Whole town's booked out for a convention all weekend." She was plainly embarrassed at having to offer them a room together. "I had a last-minute cancellation, which is why I have the room free." She considered for a moment. "It is a twin, though: two double beds."

Sara looked at Nick, who flashed her a tight smile. Between him and the car, they weren't going anywhere for a while.

"We'll take it," she said firmly.

"Sara, I told you, I'm fine," Nick protested as she shepherded him into the room. A quick glance confirmed that there were indeed two beds before she propelled him past them and into the bathroom.

"The heck you are," she replied in the same firm tone she had used in reception. "Get that hand under cold water, Nick Stokes. Warrick told me to take care of you, and that's what I'm gonna do. Now let me see."

She gently drew the flannel away, to reveal a livid burn covering almost the whole surface of the back of his hand.

"Nick, that's serious. You should see a doctor."

Nick stubbornly shook his head, no. "I'll be fine Sara, don't fuss."

She could tell by the stubborn set of his jaw that he wasn't going to change his mind, so she contented herself with turning on the faucet with somewhat more vigor than was required.

"Fine then. Keep it under running water while I go find a pharmacy." She hoped there was one within walking distance.

By the time she returned, Nick was regretting being so short with her. The burn was pretty bad, and she was only showing her concern.

"That you, darlin'?" he called at the sound of someone entering the room.

"Yeah, it's me." He could tell from the tone of her voice that she wasn't mad, and was grateful. "I got some Tylenol and an antiseptic cream," she told him. "I picked up a first aid kit for the car, too. Seemed like a good idea."

She entered the bathroom, where Nick was still holding his hand under the water, and picked up a towel. "Let me see."

She patted his hand dry with a gentle touch, then washed her own hands before carefully smoothing on the lotion. Watching her, Nick was absorbed by her nearness and the tenderness and concern on her face. He swallowed.

"Okay." She smiled at him. "The cream has an anesthetic as well, so it should help with the pain. You'd better take a couple of Tylenol too."

"You don't have to take care of me, Sara," he protested weakly: he was enjoying her ministrations and didn't really want her to stop.

"I know," she told him. "You're big and tough and you can take care of yourself. She wrapped her arms around his waist and hugged him. "Maybe I want to take care of you," she suggested.

**A/N:** Okay, okay, so it's hopelessly contrived. So sue me.


	11. I'm not to sure about myself

**Writing on a Blank Slate**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own CSI.

**Rating:** M (please note that this is a precautionary measure: I don't plan on getting too carried away!)

**A/N:** Yes, I know this part of the plot is horribly contrived. But it works.

**Chapter 11: "I'm not so sure about myself."**

Sara insisted that Nick choose a bed and sit back to watch TV while she brought in their stuff. As well as unloading their bags she also carried in their boxes, saying that she didn't want to risk losing them if she did have to hand the car over to a mechanic.

"Okay," Nick grinned when she was done, patting the bed beside him. "Now come keep your poor, wounded boyfriend company."

Sara's heart still jumped at the use of the word 'boyfriend', and now it had an added reason to quicken as she realized that she had never actually sat beside Nick in private before.

Nick sensed her hesitation. "What's the matter darlin'?" he asked, puzzled. "Don't you trust me?" He was a little hurt by that, but Sara just chuckled ruefully.

"I trust you," she replied. "I'm just not so sure about myself."

"Really?" The implications of her admission brought a sexy smirk to his lips. She took it as a challenge and, with a toss of her head, settled on the bed next to him.

Nick reflected that he probably shouldn't have let her apply that lotion to his hand. Being alone in a motel room with Sara was something he had been thinking about for days, and a little pain might have helped him keep his libido under control. As it was, it was going to be down to sheer will-power… and her comment about not trusting herself hadn't exactly helped him on that score.

He drew a deep breath and forced himself to concentrate on the penguins that were currently being cute on the Discovery Channel.

Sara leaned her head against Nick's shoulder, enjoying the feeling of his arm about her. It had been a long time since she'd curled up with someone like this, and it felt so right, so comfortable.

She must have dozed off, because the next thing she knew the voices on the TV had changed and Nick was calling her name in a soft, teasing tone.

"Sara? Earth to Sara? Wake up sweetheart."

"Hmmmm?" She raised her head groggily and he chuckled.

"You wanna order a pizza?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah, sure," she nodded. "Half vegetarian-"

"-with everything?" he finished for her. "No problem."

He leaned across her for the phonebook and she inhaled sharply at the pressure of his body against hers. He met her gaze for a long moment before shaking himself as though trying to shake off his own carnal thoughts.

"Pizza," he said firmly, claiming the book and moving back to a safer distance.

She picked up the remote and began channel-surfing as he placed the order.

The pizza, along with onion rings, French fries and soda, went well with the sci-fi comedy that they had settled on. As the night wore on, however, and sci-fi gave way to rom-com, the sexual tension in the room seemed to build to an almost intolerable level.

"Well," Sara said briskly, pushing herself up from the bed almost before the end credits had begun to roll, "I'm going to have a shower."

She grabbed her things and headed for the bathroom, returning a moment later when she realized she had forgotten her night-shirt. Once safely back in the bathroom she shut and locked the door and leaned against it with a deep breath.

"Okay, Sidle," she told herself firmly, "you can do this. You can have a shower and go to bed and get some sleep and not try to seduce your sexy co-worker – former co-worker – who is probably sitting out there imagining you naked. Yeah, sure you can."

She turned on the water and undressed, trying not to think about Nick lying on his bed in the next room listening to her bathe.

Nick heard the water running and tried not to think about images of naked, wet, soapy Sara. The familiar stirring in his jeans, which he had been feeling even more than usual lately, told him that he wasn't being entirely successful.

He briefly considered a therapeutic spell of masturbation but decided against it. The last thing he needed was for Sara to walk out of the bathroom and find him in the throes of self-abuse to the sound-track of her ablutions.

She emerged a short while later, toweling her hair. She hadn't bothered straighten it since they had left Las Vegas and he liked the softer look that the waves gave to her features. She smiled and gestured towards the bathroom.

"All yours."

He rose and turned away, hoping that she hadn't noticed the tell-tale bulge in his jeans.

Sara finished drying her hair and turned out all but the bedside lamps. Then she climbed into her bed, hoping she would fall asleep before Nick finished in the bathroom, but her mind kept coming back to the sound of the shower and the images it conjured up.

Nick naked. Nick tilting his head back under the water. Nick soaping his well-muscled chest. Soaping lower. Was he hard, she wondered? Was he touching himself as she was now touching herself, breath coming faster, careful not to make a sound until release drew a soft whimper of pleasure from her throat?

She rolled over to face the wall, her heart hammering. A moment later the water cut off and she closed her eyes, determined that sleep, or a counterfeit thereof, would preclude further conversation that night.

Nick emerged to find Sara apparently asleep.

"Sara?" he tried.

Receiving no reply, he moved over to her bed and turned out her lamp, leaning over to place a soft kiss on her brow.

"Night, darlin'" he whispered. Then he retreated to his own bed.

**A/N: Yes, yes, I know I'm a tease!**


	12. Tell me what's wrong

**Writing on a Blank Slate**

**Disclaimer:** I still don't own them, but I've been a good girl this year. 'Dear Santa…'

**Rating:** M

**Chapter 12: "Tell me what's wrong."**

Sara should have slept peacefully that night, but the strong emotions of the day combined with the cheesy pizza and sugary soda to drag her into a half-waking nightmare of old hurts and fears.

Part of her mind was aware that she was lying safely in a motel room with Nick sleeping peacefully only a few feet away, but part of her was drawn back into black memories of her past…

She was a frightened child again, hiding under the covers as her parents argued in the next room, listening to the first blows fall. She was a lonely foster-child being driven away to yet another new family, or lying in bed waiting for her older foster-brother to creep into her room and stick his hand up under her nightie while with his other hand he pulled her hand down into his pyjamas: "If you ever tell anyone…" The threat was never completed.

She was a college sophomore pushed up against a wall in the shadows of a building: "Come on Sara, I showed you a good time, now you show me one."

She was a grown woman, her smile faltering as Grissom rejected her yet again, her confidence shattered once again by the knowledge that she had been Hank's other woman…

One by one the painful memories of the life that she so desperately wanted to escape paraded before her eyes and she began to cry without being aware of it, broken, hurt whimpers coming softly from her throat between the sobs.

In the bed next to hers Nick woke up, aware that something was wrong. At the sound of crying from the next bed, he came fully awake.

"Sara?" he called in a low voice. Receiving no answer, he tried again. "Sara?"

He sat up, pushing back the covers, aware that his hand was throbbing again.

"Sara?"

He walked over to her bed and sat down beside her.

"You okay darlin'?"

That got her attention, and she rolled over to face him, wiping away her tears.

"I'm fine, Nick. Go back to bed."

He shook his head.

"You are not 'fine', Sara," he contradicted her gently. "'Fine' is not lying awake in the middle of the night crying your eyes out."

He stroked her hair back from her tear-dampened cheek. "Tell me what's wrong sweetheart."

The endearment was her undoing. She sat up and leaned into his embrace with a louder sob, letting him hold her as she cried helplessly for all the years of pain and loneliness.

He rocked her and whispered softly, uncertain whether she was even hearing his endearments and reassurances, but whispering them anyway, giving what comfort he could. Gradually her sobbing eased until she was leaning quietly against him with only the occasional sniffle.

"Tell me what's wrong," he asked again. "Please, Sara. Have I done something-"

"No!" She cut him off sharply. "No, Nick, it's not you. Please believe that. You're the nicest guy I've ever known, please don't think-" she hiccoughed, and he nodded.

"Okay, so it isn't me. Is this about your past? Did something happen to you while you were in foster care?"

She gave a bitter laugh.

"Foster care. Yeah, that's part of it." She sighed. "Let's face it; my life is just one long sob story."

Nick forgot about his hand, and about how tired he was.

"Please tell me what happened?" he asked.

"Are you sure you wanna hear it?"

"Yeah." He nodded. No matter how bad it was he wanted to know; he needed to know. "I want you to tell me, Sara."

She drew a deep breath and pulled away slightly, leaning back against the wall.

"Okay, then. I guess it started a while after my Dad got out of prison. He was drinking a lot and beating up on us - on me and my mom. One day this social-worker came to see me in school: they took me out of class to talk to her. I remember I was mad 'cause we were in the middle of a science lesson."

"Your favourite, right?" he asked, and she smiled slightly.

"Yeah, my favourite." Her smile faded and she went on. "Anyway, she seemed really nice, really interested in me. I wasn't used to that.

"When I got home that afternoon there were all these emergency vehicles outside my house. And no-one saw me. No-one realized I was there, so I stood there and watched while they led my mother out of the house in handcuffs. She was covered in blood."

She stopped to draw another deep breath. She had hunched down, drawing in on herself, and no longer seemed to be aware of Nick's presence. He remained silent, not wanting to interrupt her.

"See, when the social workers came to interview my parents, mom got scared that they were going to take me away. After they left she and my dad had a huge fight. I guess this time mom fought back. She stabbed him to death with a kitchen knife."

She seemed to remember Nick's presence for the first time, and turned to look at him.

"You said you didn't think arson ran in the blood. What about murder?"

He opened his mouth to say that he'd never believe her capable of killing, but she turned away and went on.

"Anyway, I spent the rest of my childhood being shunted from one foster-family to another. Some of them were nice, some of them… in one place I had a foster brother who molested me." She swallowed. "That was the worst; even being hit is better than that."

Nick nodded.

"I know."

She glanced at him sharply and started to ask a question, but he shook his head and indicated that she should continue. She cleared her throat and went on.

"The only thing that ever made sense to me was science. It was the only thing I could count on, you know? The rules never changed, the outcome was always predictable. When I was eighteen I got a physics scholarship to Harvard. That's where I met Grissom for the first time, but you already know that bit.

"It was also where a frat boy raped me in my sophomore year." She heard his sharp intake of breath and felt him tense beside her, but continued before he could say anything. "We were on a date, so I was too ashamed to report it.

"The rest I guess you know. I'm a workaholic, I live alone, and all my relationships are disasters. Story of my life."

She turned to look at him, afraid of what she might see in his face. She had laid all her cards on the table: the rest was up to him.

He was crying. He couldn't help it: he had always felt certain that something terrible must have happened to Sara – the way she lost it on certain cases was proof enough for him– but he hadn't expected this. All he wanted to do was to hold her close and protect her, to make sure nothing bad could ever happen to her again.

"Oh, Sara," he whispered, reaching out his hand. "Come here darling."

She let him wrap her in his arms, crying once again, but these tears were tears of relief. He was still there. He still wanted her. And for now, nothing else mattered.


	13. I think I can handle that

**Writing on a Blank Slate**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own CSI.

**Rating:** M for content of other chapters.

**A/N: **Once again, thank you for all the reviews. They make me so happy!

**Chapter 13: "I think I can handle that."**

Half awake, Sara snuggled closer to the warm body lying next to her. She had fallen asleep with her head resting on Nick's chest and his arm wrapped tightly around her. Sleep had loosened his grip, but it tightened again as he felt her move, and he rolled towards her.

"Mmmm, Sara," he murmured, even less awake than she. In that position she could feel that, awake or not, he was more than happy to be there. She blushed.

"Nick?"

"Hmm?" He opened his eyes, disorientated for a moment until the memory of the night before returned.

He pulled back slightly to look at her, brushing her hair away from her face.

"Hey. You sleep okay?"

She smiled. "Pretty good thanks. How about you?"

"Pretty good." He hugged her close then reflected that, given her recent revelations, she probably wouldn't be in the mood to have a hard-on shoved up against her. He released her and rolled over, swinging his feet onto the floor. Sara smiled, amused now that her initial embarrassment had passed.

"You, uh, want to take first turn in the bathroom?" she asked, flicking a meaningful gaze down his body. "I can wait."

He blushed at the implication. "Might be an idea," he agreed.

"How's your hand?" she called after him, regretting her choice of words as soon as they were out of her mouth.

He turned back to her with a smirk.

"Good enough."

Nevertheless, she insisted on examining it before they went looking for an auto-parts store, wrapping a light gauze bandage over it to prevent infection as the dead, damaged skin sloughed away to leave the tender, weeping skin beneath exposed. He still refused to see a doctor.

At the auto-parts store Nick insisted on paying, saying that he was serious about wanting a share in the car. Seeing that he wasn't going to be dissuaded Sara agreed, but refused to let him carry anything with his injured hand.

They wandered back towards the motel side by side. Nothing more had been said about the night before, although Nick had to fight the urge to ask her for the names of her foster-brother and that frat asshole, just so he could be sure he wouldn't miss the chance to beat the crap out of them if they ever crossed his path.

Sara, meanwhile, was enjoying a newfound sense of peace. She had never voluntarily told anyone all the details of her past before, and even Grissom and her PEAP counselor hadn't been given the full version but rather just enough to keep them off her case, so the fact that Nick knew, and that he hadn't rejected her, was a huge weight off her mind.

They passed a diner, and the smell of food reminded her that she hadn't eaten anything except motel coffee and a couple of cookies that day.

"Mmmm." She turned to Nick. "You feel like pancakes? 'Cause I feel like pancakes."

Nick chuckled at the almost childish expression on her face.

"Yeah," he agreed, "pancakes sound good."

She wouldn't allow him to have anything to do with the repairs either, pointing out that even though his hand was bandaged he shouldn't be doing anything that might get it dirty or risk further injury. Working alone, it took her most of the afternoon, but at last she had him turn the engine over and was relieved to hear it purr, if not exactly like a kitten then at least like a relatively contented big cat.

Nick grinned at her. "You are one talented lady," he told her, enjoying seeing her blush. "So," he went on, "what do you want to do this evening?"

She looked down at her grimy hands and oil-stained jeans.

"Honestly? I know it sounds really girly, but I feel like putting on a pretty dress and going out for dinner."

His grin widened. "I think I can handle that."


	14. Our first official date

**Writing on a Blank Slate**

**Disclaimer:** I still don't own them

**Rating:** M

**A/N: **I think I'm suffering karmic revenge for harming Nick: I burned my hand on a pot yesterday! Once again, thanks to everyone who reviewed :)

**Chapter 14: "Our first official date."**

Sara seemed to take forever in the bathroom, which was no wonder given the state she had been in. Nick used the time to check the phonebook and find a restaurant with a table available at the last minute.

She emerged at last and waved to him to take his turn. He exited a short while later wrapped in a towel and stopped to stare.

Sara was leaning towards the mirror, carefully applying makeup. She was wearing a dark burgundy dress that stopped at the tops of her knees and scooped low enough at the neck to reveal a surprisingly generous portion of cleavage. Her legs were clad in sheer black stockings and elegantly lengthened by black high-heeled sandals.

She turned to him and smiled shyly.

"What do you think?"

He opened and closed his mouth a couple of times before he could answer, which made her laugh.

"You look amazing." He had never seen her look so fine.

For a moment they stared at each other, then Nick realized that he was naked except for a towel and blushed.

"Uh, I'd better get dressed."

"Yeah," she agreed, unable to completely hide her disappointment. "I'll turn my back."

She sat sedately on the edge of the bed, resisting the urge to turn in the hope of checking whether his buns were as tight as the rest of him.

"Okay, I'm decent."

She turned to find him clad in clean, dark jeans and a tight black t-shirt that emphasized every line of his torso, leaving his arms bare. He threw a jacket over his shoulder and offered her his arm. She grabbed her handbag and her own jacket and let him lead her out to the car.

They both headed for the driver's door, and Nick held her back with a laugh.

"This is our first official date, Sara: let me drive."

"But it's my car," she pointed out sensibly, an amused smile curving the corners of her lips.

"Actually, I think about half the engine's mine now," he argued.

She rolled her eyes and slapped the keys into his palm in mock annoyance. "Just be careful with my baby."

He snorted at that, his eyes dancing.

"As I recall, yesterday you were calling _our_ baby a piece of crap. And anyway, I thought I was your baby."

He pouted and she swatted his arm.

"Just get in before I change my mind, cowboy."

He managed to find the restaurant with only a few wrong turns, and was relieved to see that it appeared to be as classy as the ad in the yellow pages had promised. You never could tell.

Sara looked around appreciatively as he guided her inside with a gently possessive hand on the small of her back.

"Nice," she commented.

Their table wasn't ready, but the maitre d' offered them each a free drink in the bar while they waited, which they cheerfully accepted. Nick was aware of men's heads turning as they walked in and moved slightly closer to Sara, shooting several of the more blatant onlookers a warning glance.

"Smile, Nick," she suggested, surprised at the expression on his face.

"Sorry darlin," he apologized. "Guess I just don't like them looking at my woman like that."

She smiled, amused at his protectiveness.

"If it makes you feel any better, they'll get distracted as soon as someone prettier walks in."

"Well, that could take a while," he replied, and she blushed.

"I'm not that attractive, Nick."

He raised both eyebrows in surprise.

"Not that attractive?" he repeated in disbelief. "Sara, you look sexy as hell on a bad day, and today is definitely _not_ a bad day." He paused, then leaned closer to her to whisper wickedly in her ear "if you're so unattractive, then why am I so damn attracted to you?"

She turned a deeper shade of pink, unable to think of a suitable reply, and he chuckled and drew back to lean against the bar, ordering their drinks as though nothing had happened.

The meal was excellent, starting with a crisp salad in a tangy house dressing, followed by a delicious layered eggplant dish for her and a juicy steak, perfectly cooked, for him. They each had a second glass of wine but decided against ordering a bottle, aware that they would be driving back to the motel.

The busboy cleared their plates away and the waitress offered them the dessert menu. Nick took it before Sara could say no.

"Nick, if I eat one more thing you're gonna have to roll me out of here," she told him.

"Aww, c'mon Sar," he begged. "Just a little something? They have cheesecake."

She laughed. "I'm serious! Not another bite."

"Not even a little bit off the corner of mine?"

She considered for a moment. "Well, maybe just one bite more."

Nick seized the bill as soon as it arrived, snatching it away when Sara reached for it.

"This is our first date, Sara," he reminded her patiently. "What kind of gentleman would I be if I let you pay on our first date?"

"A modern one?" she suggested in a teasing tone.

"Are you saying you don't like my old-fashioned manners?"

"We're shacked up together in a motel room," she reminded him. "Real old-fashioned, Stokes."

"I'll have you know, many women find me charming," he told her, affecting an air of wounded dignity. "Now let me pay."

She rolled her eyes at him. "Okay, okay, you're a true gentleman. Your reputation is safe." She paused, then continued in a serious tone. "Thank you, Nick."

"You're welcome." He took her hand over the table.

A brief memory of that frat boy in college reared its head, but she gazed into Nick's warm chocolate eyes and pushed the memory back firmly into the past, where it belonged. Nick wasn't like that, she reminded herself. He wouldn't be insisting on 'payment' later.

Still, she reflected, feeling his hand caressing hers in the candlelight, it would only be proper to express her thanks again later. Her lips curved sensuously at the thought. It would be a pleasure, in fact.


	15. I didn't know gentlemen kissed like that

**Writing on a Blank Slate**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own CSI.

**Rating:** M: sexual content (at last…)

**Chapter 15: "I didn't know gentlemen kissed like that."**

After they left the restaurant Nick escorted Sara to the passenger's side of the car, where he gave her a scorching kiss before opening the door and holding it for her.

"See?" he asked. "I'm a perfect gentleman."

"I didn't know gentlemen kissed like that," she retorted.

He chuckled suggestively and closed the door, leaving her alone in the privacy of the darkness for a moment with nothing to think about except the pounding of her heart and the tingling of her lips… and other places.

He kissed her again once he was seated behind the wheel, and felt her rest her hand on his knee as they pulled away.

"What do you want to do when we get back to the motel?" she asked, and Nick tensed slightly. Had he imagined it, or had her hand just slid further up his thigh as she spoke? He glanced at her, but she was watching the road, a slight smile on her lips, as though she was trying not to grin.

"Uh, I don't know," he replied, trying to sound casual. "We could watch a movie or something."

"We could," she agreed, and this time he was certain he had felt her hand move. He heard her shift in her seat and glanced across at her, trying to slow the sudden pounding of his heart.

Unconsciously, he flicked his gaze down her body, noticing that her skirt had ridden up to reveal several inches of nylon-clad thigh above her knee. He wondered what she would do if he ran his hand up her leg, beneath the hem of her skirt. With a start, he snapped his head back to the road.

"You, uh, had something else in mind?" he asked, his voice sounding strange to his own ears. She shrugged.

"It's late. Maybe we should just go to bed."

As she said it, she ran her hand almost all the way up his thigh, curving inwards as she did so.

"Jesus, Sara!" His foot twitched downwards on the accelerator at the same time as his hands jerked the wheel sideways. An oncoming driver honked in protest.

"Something the matter Nick?" she asked sweetly, and he groaned.

"You have no idea what you're doing to me," he told her.

"Oh, I think I get the point." The emphasis she placed on the last word made him groan again.

"Sara, you're gonna have to stop that if you want me to get us, and the car, back to the motel in one piece."

She sighed and slid her hand back towards his knee, and he realized she had interpreted his words as a rejection. He caught her wrist mid-way down his thigh.

"I think about there's okay," he told her.

She looked at him, her smile tinged slightly with relief, and he smiled back. He hadn't imagined that she would be this forward, but in a way he was relieved. In the back of his mind ever since they'd left Las Vegas had been the worry that he might unintentionally do something that would push her too far and put an end to everything that was happening between them. Tonight he didn't think he needed to worry about that.

When they reached the motel he pinned her up against the side of the car, one arm on either side of her body.

"Don't you know it's dangerous to distract a man while he's driving?" he asked in a mock-stern voice.

"Gee, Nick, how was I supposed to know you'd be so easily distracted," she replied innocently.

In answer, he dropped his hand to her thigh and ran it up under her dress, exactly as he had imagined in the car. He stopped well short of where she had, surprised to feel a band of lace apparently marking the tops of her stockings. His testosterone levels jumped up another notch.

"Let's see how you like it," he challenged softly, leaning in to kiss her. She kissed him back, then turned her head to whisper in his ear.

"I like it just fine."

He removed his hand from her thigh and pressed his hips against hers, pushing her back against the car with a moan. She responded by arching into him, her mouth fixing hungrily on his.

He ran his lips down her throat and back up to her ear and she moaned in pleasure before raising her hands to his chest and pushing him back slightly. He gave her a questioning look.

"Maybe we should take this inside," she suggested huskily.

He fumbled with the lock as she kissed his neck, then kicked the door shut behind them as he turned, spanning her waist with his hands and easing her back towards the bed.

Sara pulled impatiently at Nick's t-shirt, wanting it off, wanting to see him, to touch him, to taste him. She had never felt this swept away with anyone before, dizzy, almost drunk although she'd only had two small drinks. She trusted him, felt safe with him as she never had with any lover before him. Nick would never hurt her or mock her or walk out on her, and so she could give herself to him without fear or reservations.

He paused long enough to throw the t-shirt aside, then continued to push her back until the backs of her knees hit the bed and she didn't even try to keep her feet, just let herself fall backwards, pulling him down on top of her.

He laughed and caught himself with his hands so he wouldn't land on her, and she laughed back. Then he supported himself on one arm, running his other hand up under her dress again.

"What exactly have you got on under there?" he asked, both curious and incredibly aroused.

"You'll see," she replied, running her hands over the now-bare skin of his chest. She had never touched him like this before, and she savored the feeling of his skin beneath her palms, the tight, dark nipples that tightened still further as he moaned at her caress.

She pushed at his shoulders, rolling him onto his back so she could straddle his waist, tugging at the belt of his jeans. She pulled it loose and discarded it then, looking down at him with a sultry smile, she grabbed the hem of her dress and peeled it off over her head.

At the sight of her astride him, clad only in a black lace bra, matching panties and those hold-up stocking with the lace top, Nick's heart almost stopped. He reached out and very gently ran his hands up her sides, feeling her shudder deliciously at the caress.

"God, Sara," he whispered. Then he pulled her down on top of him.


	16. Don't ever go away

**Writing on a Blank Slate**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own CSI.

**Rating:** M

**Chapter 16: "Don't ever go away."**

Sara awoke later that night with a wonderfully heavy feeling throughout her body. Her muscles ached deliciously, and a sensual smile curved her lips at the memory of exactly how she had ended up naked in bed with Nick, his body curled so tightly against hers that she didn't want to move in case she woke him.

In the dim light of the room she gazed lovingly at his face, so close to her own that she could feel the warmth of each exhalation. He was smiling in his sleep, his hair still tousled from her caresses.

She could have lain like that all night, admiring her lover as he slept, but her face felt scungy with makeup and there was an uncomfortable pressure in her bladder. Very slowly, in the hope that she wouldn't wake him, she began to ease herself from his embrace and the bed.

Her efforts proved unsuccessful and he awoke with a grunt of protest.

"Where you goin'?" he asked, his accent thickened by sleep. She wondered if he realized just what that accent did for her.

"Bathroom," she replied softly.

"'Kay. Don't be long."

She smiled again and leaned over to kiss his lips lightly. "I won't."

The sound of her in the bathroom made Nick realize that he needed it too, and when she returned to the bed he rose to take his turn.

He came back to find her lying on her back, staring at the ceiling and smiling. As soon as he reached for her she rolled towards him, pressing her body close to his. He hugged her tightly.

"I love you, Sara Sidle," he whispered in her ear.

She nuzzled his neck, then turned her head enough to reply softly "I love you too, Nicholas Stokes."

"Don't ever go away," he asked, meaning it.

"I won't," she promised.


	17. Give me bck my tshirt!

**Writing on a Blank Slate**

**Disclaimer:** Do you have ANY idea how bored I am with typing this? No, strange as it may seem, I don't own CSI!

**Rating:** M

**Chapter 17: "Give me back my t-shirt!"**

They awoke the next day to grey sunlight filtering between the curtains and the patter of rain on the window. Their bodies were still entwined, and they both had stiff muscles from lying for so long in the same position. Something else of Nick's was stiff too, and Sara ran her hand down his torso with a smile.

"Well, hello there."

He chuckled and rolled her over.

Afterwards, Nick propped himself up on his elbow and smiled at her, one hand playing with her hair.

"What do you want to do today?" he asked. She shrugged lazily.

"I have no idea. Maybe we could go to a museum or something, or check out that convention?"

"Nah," he drawled at the latter. "I already checked: it's farming equipment." She made a face.

"Boring. What did you have in mind?"

"Well, I kinda thought we could stay in."

"In bed?"

"Sure, why not? I'll put the 'do not disturb' sign on the door, go pick up breakfast and a paper, and we can stay here." He ran his gaze down her body. "You won't even have to get dressed."

She considered it for a moment. The idea of spending a whole day in bed for no reason sounded incredibly decadent. The idea of spending it with Nick sounded like heaven.

"Sounds good," she agreed.

Nick took a quick shower and kissed her goodbye. The room seemed very quiet and very empty after he had left, so Sara occupied herself by picking up the clothing they had discarded the night before. Some items would need a wash, but the rest she folded neatly ready to be re-packed when they left. She also picked up three used condoms from the floor, and moved the trashcan to a more convenient position. She had no intention of spending every morning from now on picking up condoms.

She took a shower of her own and considered putting on her nightshirt, but decided against it. Instead she grabbed Nick's black t-shirt. It smelt of his skin, and she pressed it briefly to her face before putting it on, feeling like a silly teenager.

She added a pair of plain cotton briefs, having a sneaking suspicion that Nick would appreciate seeing her thus attired. She could definitely get used to being looked at the way Nick looked at her.

She heard a knock on the door followed by Nick's voice calling:

"Sara, are you decent?"

"No," she called back, and heard the key in the lock.

"Good," he replied, entering with several bags and a newspaper. "Hey," he exclaimed upon seeing her, "that's my t-shirt!"

"You wanna come try and get it off me?" she teased.

He narrowed his eyes, dumped his bags and crossed the room to the bed. To his surprise she ducked away, evading his grasp.

"Hey," he laughed, rounding the bed only to have her scramble across it, "come back here."

"Catch me if you can," she retorted.

He kicked off his shoes and jumped over the bed, but she was too fast for him and his fingers barely brushed her as she dodged him once again and leapt over to the other bed with a triumphant laugh. He laughed too and followed her. She led him a merry chase twice more around the room before he finally managed to corner her.

"Hah!" he exclaimed triumphantly, pushing her back onto her bed and kneeling across her waist. "Now give me back my t-shirt!"

"No, no!" she cried in mock horror, trying to fend him off while at the same time holding the hem of the shirt down, efforts not helped by the fact that she could barely breathe for laughing so hard.

He finally peeled the t-shirt off her, only to have her cross her arms modestly over her chest.

"Boobies! I want boobies!" he shouted, trying to pull her arms away.

They wrestled, laughing, until Sara rolled right off the bed and onto the floor.

"Ouch!" she exclaimed, before bursting out laughing again.

"You okay down there?" Nick asked through his own laughter.

She nodded, then gradually sobered, the occasional giggle still bubbling up as she brought herself back under control.

"Okay," she scrambled to her feet. "Now that I've worked up an appetite, what did you bring me for breakfast?"

Nick passed her back his t-shirt and they ate sitting together on the bed. The paper was a fat Sunday edition and they split it into sections to read, discarding the business, auto and real-estate sections without a second glance.

Sara had a private bet with herself that Nick would go for either the funnies or the sports section first, and was amused to see that she was right.

They read, then bent their heads over the crossword. Nick managed a credible compliment of answers, but was unsurprised when Sara, after only a few minutes' thought, succeeded in cracking clues that would have stumped him indefinitely.

"Beauty and brains," he commented, kissing her neck. "I am one lucky guy."

"And don't you forget it," she replied.


	18. I’ll have to enter a monastery

**Writing on a Blank Slate**

**Disclaimer:** CSI isn't mine, blah, blah, blah

**Rating:** M

**Chapter 18: "I'll have to enter a monastery"**

Nick's cell-phone rang while they were lying half asleep together mid-afternoon, Nick having managed to get the t-shirt off her a second time. He rolled over and answered the call, his other arm still under Sara's head.

"Yeah? Oh, hi Warrick. Yeah, it's a good time. No, we're not driving. Still in Canada. Yeah, she's fine. She's right here. Sure."

He passed the phone to Sara.

"Hey Warrick."

"Hey girl, how are you?"

"Pretty good actually."

"You and Nick having fun?"

She could feel herself blush as she answered. "Uh, yeah," she stammered, hating the sound of her own voice. "We're having a great time."

Warrick chuckled. "Is that a fact?"

Nick took the phone from her hands. "Are you harassing my girlfriend?" he asked.

"Girlfriend?" Warrick chuckled again, as did Nick.

"Yeah, it's official."

"About time man. Now you treat her good or I'll track you down and bust your kneecaps. Hey Greg," he called, "you owe me $10, man."

Nick heard Greg swear in the background, then the youngest CSI came on the line.

"Nick, is Sara there?"

He stifled his laughter and handed the phone back to Sara, mouthing 'Greg' as he did so.

"Sara! Say it ain't so!" Greg cried dramatically, and she grinned.

"Sorry Greggo. Like Nick says, it's official."

"You realize I may never recover from this? I'll have to enter a monastery or something."

"Or something. I can't see you as a monk, Greg." This earned her a puzzled glance from Nick, who mouthed 'what?' at her. "So, not that I'm complaining, but why did you guys call us?"

"Oh, Warrick and I've been packing up Nick's house. We wanted to let him know and see how you were doing."

"We're doing great," Sara assured him. "How's life in Vegas?"

"Well, let's see," Greg considered. "There's been a lot of fuss about you leaving. Catherine and Grissom both had to talk to an enquiry panel."

"Enquiry panel?"

"Yeah. Like I said there's been a lot of fuss. We've got this guy from days working with us at the moment. He's okay, but I miss you." In spite of his earlier joking, there was a note of sincerity in Greg's voice. Sara smiled sadly.

"We miss you guys too."

"I think that's about it, except Warrick's getting married, but he might have decided that before you left. I can't remember. He hasn't said whether I'm invited to the wedding, so see if you can convince him-"

He broke off abruptly, and Warrick came back on the line.

"Feel free to ignore him. I think losing you has affected his brain."

"So he is invited to the wedding?"

"Hell no. We're planning a real quiet one." There was a pause in which Sara imagined Greg giving Warrick pleading looks. "Oh, alright, fine, I'll talk to Tina." Happy noises from Greg. "Can you put Nick back on? I want to talk to him about his stuff."

"Sure." She passed the phone back, mouthing Warrick's name as she did so.

"So, Nick, about your stuff…"


	19. We were a family

**Writing on a Blank Slate**

**Disclaimer: **CSI is not mine.

**Rating: **M for content of other chapters

**Chapter 19: "We were a family."**

There had indeed been an enquiry at the Las Vegas Crime Lab, which might have ended badly if Grissom, with his usual complete disregard for office politics, had been called to face it alone. Fortunately, since Catherine had been supervising Nick for most of the months leading up to his unexpected departure, she was also asked to talk to the board.

Having had advanced warning of this she had checked the personnel files and latest psychologist's evaluations of both Nick and Sara. It had always amused her that the Powers That Be seemed to be so concerned with the mental health of their employees.

Officially it was because they cared.

Unofficially, Catherine was of the more cynical opinion that it was because someone had figured out that CSIs knew a lot about both how to kill people and how to conceal the evidence, and it might therefore be a good idea to know if one of them was in danger of going crazy and putting their theoretical knowledge into practice.

Now, however, she turned her attention from speculation as to the true motives behind the psych evaluations and back to the three people sittingoppositeher.

"So, Ms. Willows, can you tell us what, in your opinion, was the catalyst for Mr. Stokes and Ms. Sidle's decision?"

"Well," she leaned back. "I guess you've read their psych evaluations. Nick's been under a lot of stress lately, and Sara's always been somewhat unstable." At their raised eyebrows she shrugged. "You did say you wanted my opinion."

"And we do. However, regardless of their personal circumstances, both Stokes and Sidle had worked at CSI for a considerable period of time. Ms. Sidle in particular appears to have been an unusually dedicated employee.

"And yet they both decided to leave without a word. Can you speculate as to a reason? A romantic involvement, perhaps?"

At that, Catherine had to struggle not to burst out laughing.

"Nick and Sara?" She shook her head. "No way. She's just so not his type. Besides, if they were going to give into temptation I think it would have happened before now."

Catherine, normally an astute observer of human nature, was in for something of a surprise when she caught up with the latest gossip.

"No, if you ask me, the person to blame for all of this is Conrad Ecklie." It took an effort, but she managed to suppress the urge to smile at that. Ecklie had dumped a lot of shit on her team over the years, and now his chickens were coming home to roost.

"Go on."

She leaned forward. "Criminal investigation is a high-stress job. We see the worst of human brutality every day: Rape, murder, blood and gore. There's a reason why we keep a psychologist on-staff. But your main support network is your team.

"You see each other every day, and you know no matter how bad it gets there's someone else who has seen worse and gotten through it. It's even more important when you work nights because it screws your social life. I'm the only member of my entire team who has anything approaching a home life, and, believe me, my daughter would leave tomorrow if she were old enough."

There were nods around the table. "Please, continue."

"Nick, Sara, Grissom, Warrick and I worked together for five years, and we were close – a family. Suddenly, Ecklie announces that he's busting us up. No warning, he just tells us he's splitting the team.

"Now, for me it isn't all bad. I get bumped up to swing-shift supervisor, there's a payrise, and the hours are a bit easier on my social life. I even get my own office, even if it is the size of a closet. But at the same time it was as though the rug was pulled out from under our feet."

She was surprised to feel a lump in her throat at the memory.

"It was a bureaucratic decision, and it felt personal, you know? This wasn't just one person moving on, this was our whole family being torn apart."

She fell silent, remembering, and the panel members exchanged concerned glances.

"It sounds as though this was quite a traumatic time for you?" one of them offered.

"It was," she replied. "For all of us. To be honest, I figured it was only a matter of time before someone quit or had a breakdown." She snorted. "Looks like that's exactlywhat happened."

"Indeed. Although I'm rather surprised to see that it's happened now, given that your team has been back together for several months."

"True." Catherine replied. "But it hasn't been the same."

She knew she couldn't explain to them the strain that the team was still under, the insecurity of living with the knowledge that they could be split up again at any time, and was glad when they didn't ask her to try.

"Thank you Ms. Willows. You've been most helpful."


	20. Do you think it's my fault?

**Writing on a Blank Slate**

**Disclaimer: **CSI is not mine.

**Rating: **M for content of other chapters

**Chapter 20: "Do you think it's my fault?"**

Grissom was sitting in his darkened office with his head in his hands and his glasses dangling loosely from his fingers when Catherine knocked on the door. As was her habit, she entered without waiting for an invitation.

"Before you ask, I think we're off the hook."

"Do you think it's my fault, Catherine?" he asked instead, not looking up.

She sighed. Dearly as she loved her friend, he really was hopeless sometimes. Like whenever the world of emotions reared its ugly head.

"You mean Sara leaving?" He nodded and she shrugged. "Well, she did spend five years blatantly throwing herself at you."

"And I spent five years rejecting her."

"Yes," she agreed, "you did. Look, Gil, I'm not saying that you're responsible for her leaving, but I am saying that maybe if you'd acted on your feelings for her she might have stuck around."

"So it is my fault."

"No, Gil, it's not your fault. Sara…" she searched for the words, gave up and shrugged again. "Sara's Sara. And you're you."

They were silent for a moment. Catherine leaned back against the wall. Grissom needed to talk or he'd brood indefinitely; had probably already been brooding since the day he walked in and found those letters.

After a moment, he sighed and went on.

"Do you think she's with him?"

"You mean 'with' him, as in sleeping with him?" She shrugged for a third time.He seemed to be provoking that response tonight. "Anything's possible, but I doubt it. I mean, Party Boy Nick and Ms. Moody Sidle? I just can't see it."

"Don't underestimate him, Catherine. Nick's been through a lot: that can change a person. And even before that, he was always drawn to anyone hurt or vulnerable, and Sara…" He trailed off and finished softly to himself "Sara's so vulnerable."

Catherine stared in surprise. Was it possible that Grissom might have actually picked up on something that she'd missed? She drew a deep breath.

"Okay, come on."

He finally looked up.

"Where are we going?"

"Out. I'm buying you a drink."


	21. Tell me what you meant

**Writing on a Blank Slate**

**Disclaimer: **CSI is not mine.

**Rating: **M for content of other chapters

**Chapter 21: "Tell me what you meant."**

Being with Nick, Sara thought, had to rate as one of the best things – no, she amended after doing a quick review, the best thing – that had ever happened to her.

He had finished making arrangements with Warrick and they were once again laying side by side, her head pillowed on his arm. A love song was playing on the radio and he was crooning along, not jokingly as he sometimes did in the car, but softly, as though he meant every word, and she wondered whether she could ever have felt like this with Grissom. Somehow it seemed difficult to imagine it.

The song finished, and she turned her head to smile up at him.

"That was really sweet."

"Shame about my voice though," he replied modestly, but she could tell he was pleased.

"I thought you sounded fine."

He shook his head and sat up, sliding her head onto the pillow as he did so.

"You wanna go out, get a bite to eat?" he asked.

She laughed – his appetite was a long-standing joke – but agreed.

He knocked on the bathroom door while she was getting undressed to take a shower.

"Mind if I join you?"

For a moment she felt an irrational desire to refuse, but then she smiled and opened the door.

"Come on in."

"Are you sure?" he asked, aware that she had hesitated.

She grinned. "Yeah, I'm sure."

"Really? I don't want to overstep any boundaries…"

"You mean like letting me see you all naked and soapy? Oh, how will I ever recover?"

As she had intended, he laughed and stopped worrying.

Unsurprisingly, their shower ended up taking rather longer than they had anticipated, so it was late when they headed out to dinner, later when they got back, and later still when they finally lay back in bed together.

"Nick? Sara asked, staring at the ceiling in the darkness.

"Yeah?"

"Can I ask you something?"

"You just did," he pointed out by way of reply, and she rolled her eyes.

"I'm being serious."

She rolled over so that they were facing each other, and his smile faded at her tone. He had a feeling he knew what she was going to ask, and it was not a conversation that he had been looking forward to. He swallowed.

"Okay."

She drew a deep breath. "You remember the night before last, when I was crying and you asked me what was wrong?"

"Yeah?"

"Well, I remember I was telling you about my foster brother, about how bad it was, and you said something."

She felt him tense slightly and was quiet, waiting for him to speak. After a moment he nodded and said, very softly:

"I said 'I know'."

"Tell me what you meant."

"What do you think I meant?" he responded.

She just continued to look at him, a sad smile on her lips, and he sighed and rolled over onto his back, unable to meet her gaze.

"I was just a kid. My parents were going out, and my eldest sisters were away somewhere, I forget where. The normal baby-sitter cancelled at the last minute, so they got this other girl." He swallowed.

"I was in bed when I heard the door to my room open. I thought she was just checking on me, you know, but she came in and sat down on the bed… I couldn't stop her, Sara! I just lay there and, and let her do it, and I didn't even try to stop her!"

"Oh, Nick." She could feel tears stinging her eyes and bile stinging her throat. She wanted very much to reach out and comfort him but she lay still, uncertain of how he would react to being touched just then.

"I should have stopped her," he went on. "I was a boy. Boys are supposed to be tough, to fight back. But I didn't."

She touched his cheek with the tips of her fingers.

"You were just a kid, Nick. What were you supposed to do?" She paused. "You never told anyone, did you?"

"Catherine got it out of me on a case a few years ago. But back then? No, I never said anything. I was too ashamed."

Sara's other hand, the one not touching Nick in tenuous comfort, clenched into a fist against the covers.

"She's the one who should be ashamed, not you."

He didn't say anything more, but after a moment he reached up and took her hand, pressing it more firmly against his cheek before raising it to his lips and kissing it. He turned his head, once again meeting her eye.

"Love you," he whispered in a voice that betrayed the tears the darkness almost hid.

She drew her hand back, bringing his with it, and pressed it to her own cheek before kissing it in return.

"Love you too."


	22. Have you thought about this?

**Writing on a Blank Slate**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own CSI.

**Rating:** M for content of other chapters.

**A/N: **Once again, thank you for all the reviews. They make me so happy!

**Chapter 22: "Have you thought about this?"**

The question came completely out of the blue. Some time had passed since the day of the breakdown as they meandered slowly through Canada. They had stopped at a national park, where they had watched in awed silence as two black bears crossed the trail in front of them. They had spent a night in their sleeping bags in the back of the car when they realized that they weren't going to reach a motel before dawn, and had woken, stiff-muscled and more than a little cold, in time to watch the sunrise. They had made out under the stars. They had talked about everything; their hopes, their dreams, their plans for the future.

Not everything had been perfect, of course. Nick had woken one morning to the sound of Sara closing the motel door softly behind her. He had tensed for a moment, but relaxed when he didn't hear the car start. Obviously she wasn't abandoning him, and he reflected that kind words, deep conversations and sex – even sex as great as they'd been having – probably weren't sufficient to exorcise all the ghosts of her past.

She had returned over an hour later, apologizing, saying that she had just needed some time to be alone. She had obviously expected him to be mad, but he had swallowed his annoyance and hugged her instead, asking her to tell him the next time so that he wouldn't worry.

Confronting his own ghosts hasn't been easy either. Talking about the baby-sitter who had molested him had re-opened a wound that had taken several days to close again. He was grateful that Sara, usually so easily hurt and so swift to feel rejected, had been able to understand the uncharacteristic reticence that had overtaken him for several days and hadn't pushed him, physically or emotionally, until his mood had cleared. He was glad too, once the initial pain of memory had subsided, to have the issue out in the open.

Then there had been his hand. Sara had woken one night to feel him burning with fever and drenched with sweat beside her. At that point she had insisted that he see a doctor, who had diagnosed an infection in his burned hand. He had been prescribed some heavy antibiotics and had felt like death for days, but the drugs had done the trick and his hand was finally healing.

On top of all of that, there were days when certain articles on the news or in the papers would evoke unwelcome memories of cases that they had worked in what they were already coming to think of as their past lives, and they had both spent more than one night comforting and being comforted when recollection denied them peace of mind.

But, overall, the bad times were fleeting; small clouds that only occasionally darkened the sunshine of their happiness.

That sun was shining brilliantly this morning, both literally and figuratively, turning the maple syrup in which Sara was drowning her pancakes into deep, gleaming gold. She finished pouring, setting the jug down and licking the sticky residue from her fingers with a blissful smile, and that was when he asked the question.

"Marry me."

She froze, one finger still in her mouth, then slowly withdrew it, her eyes, wide with shock, never leaving his.

"Uh, what did you say?"

"Marry me. Let's get married."

She shook her head slightly, a dazed frown on her face.

"Have you thought about this, Nick?" she asked incredulously.

"Sure," he lied because, although he had been considering the idea for days, his rational mind had been insisting that it was much too soon to say anything. Evidently his subconscious had decided to intervene and the words had just popped out. Which, he supposed, gave a whole new meaning to the phrase 'popping the question'.

"We've been dating for what, a month?" she asked.

"We've known each other for more than five years," he countered. "And, if you ask me, what we've been doing constitutes a little more than just 'dating'."

She was quiet for a moment.

"You're really serious about this, aren't you?" she asked in a different tone of voice.

"Yes," he replied, not joking now. "Yeah, Sara, I'm really serious. I want you to marry me. I want us to spend the rest of our lives together."

For emphasis, he picked up her still-sticky hand and kissed it.

"Okay," Sara nodded, as her gaze met his.

"Okay?" he repeated, and she smiled, then grinned, unable to help it, and repeated more decisively:

"Okay. Yes. Yes, I'll marry you."

The sun shone down brightly.


	23. Voulezvous coucher avec moi?

**Writing on a Blank Slate**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own CSI.

**Rating:** M for content of other chapters.

**A/N: **Please forgive my appalling French in this chapter: Sara isn't the only one trying to recall what she learned in high-school! Thinks to Miss Brat for pointing out one error, which is now fixed.

**Chapter 23: "Voulez-vous coucher avec moi ce soir?"**

Sara had barely gotten used to calling Nick her boyfriend and now, somewhere short of French-speaking Canada, she was trying out a whole new word: fiancé. In fact, she was trying out a lot of them as she attempted, with the help of a recently-purchased phrasebook, to recall her high-school French.

Nick was of little help, having studied Spanish during his own high-school career on the basis that this would be of more use to a young Texan whose ambition was to become a cop.

"Voudrais, voudrions," she muttered, lying on her stomach with the book propped open in front of her. "Nous voudrions une chambre double pour deux nuits."

"Hmm, that's pretty," Nick commented from beside her. "What does it mean?"

"Huh?" Sara had already moved on to 'une chambre double avec salle de bain, s'il vous plaît', and wasn't really listening.

"That thing you said before. 'Voo' something or other."

"Oh. Voudrions. From 'vouloir'. It means 'we would like'."

Nick grinned. "As in 'voulez-vous coucher avec moi ce soir'?" he asked, and she swatted him.

"Nick! I'm trying to study."

He held up his hands in defeat and was silent for a moment.

"'Querer'," he said suddenly.

"Huh?"

"'Querer'. It's Spanish. To want or to wish for. Quiero, queremos. Te quiero, mi amor." He eyed her suggestively and gave a throaty chuckle. "You should study some Spanish darlin'."

"Is that a fact?" she asked, rolling onto her back and dropping the phrasebook onto the floor.


	24. I never said we had to ski

**Writing on a Blank Slate**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own CSI.

**Rating:** M for content of other chapters.

**A/N: **Just a reminder that I've never been to Canada, so my interpretation of the locals' reaction to Sara's French is based on my own experiences traveling in Europe. I apologise for any inaccuracies. As always, your reviews are appreciated and bring much happiness :)

**Chapter 24: "I didn't say we had to ski."**

As it turned out the language barrier was pretty easily surmounted, as Sara's halting French was usually greeted with friendly English. They soon realized, however, that the locals really appreciated their attempts to speak the language, so much so that even Nick was soon willing to try out a friendly 'salut'.

Looking out of their motel window one morning, Sara was surprised to notice that the leaves were beginning to turn. Even given how far north they were, she realized that they must have been on the road for the better part of two months.

"What're you thinking, darlin'?" Nick asked, from where he was sprawled comfortably on the bed behind her.

"It's fall," she answered, sounding slightly surprised, and he chuckled.

"Only up here. Back down in Vegas it's probably still hot enough to fry an egg. You dreamin' of a white Christmas, sweetheart?"

She grinned. "You read my mind. I was actually thinking that maybe we should head back across the border soon. It'll be easier to find work if we don't have to worry about immigration laws."

"Getting bored with the long vacation?" he teased. "I was wondering when that would happen."

"Are you calling me a workaholic?" she asked, although she had admitted to exactly that weeks ago.

"Miss Max-Out-My-Overtime-By-The-Middle-Of-The-Month Sidle a workaholic? Never!"

She grabbed the nearest thing to hand and threw it at him. This happened to be the book of Canadian road-maps.

"Aww, letting me choose the route back home? That's sweet of you, honey."

She threw up her hands in mock-despair. "I give up," she told him. "That's it: you're hopeless. I give up on you."

"Awww." He gave her puppy-dog eyes, then burst into song: "'Don't give up on me baby, we're still worth one more try'."

At that she could no longer contain her laughter. "You're impossible!"

He laughed too, then opened the book.

"So, what do you think?" he asked. "Turn south now, or keep traveling across, then head down through New England?"

"Well," she considered, coming to sit next to him, "we actually do need to find work at some point if we're going to continue our lavish lifestyle."

"McDonalds breakfasts, sleeping in the car," he interjected.

She looked for something else to throw at him, but the only other thing handy was the takeout cappuccino that she was drinking and she wasn't about to waste perfectly good coffee on her crazy fiancé. She ignored him and continued.

"When I was in college, a lot of students used to head up into the mountains for the winter. They'd work in the ski resorts there for a couple of months, then head back to Boston."

"I thought everyone at Harvard was rich?" he teased. She made a face.

"Are you forgetting my own illustrious past?" She smiled to let him know that she was teasing, too. "Yeah, some of them were rich, and they were the ones who kept the ski resorts in business, but, believe it or not, a lot of us really struggled to make ends meet. You might say that college was where I first developed my addiction to work." She gave a melodramatic sniff.

Nick swatted her with the map-book. "Well at least now you can admit that you have an addiction. I'm told that's the first step on the road to recovery." Then he sobered. "But as far as ski resorts go, I think you're forgetting a couple of things."

She raised an eyebrow at him. "Such as?"

"Well, number one, the ski season is still months away and, number two, even if it wasn't, I can't ski, and, as far as I know, neither can you."

She rolled her eyes.

"I didn't say we had to ski, Nick There's all sorts of work at a ski resort. Hotels, restaurants, bars. A lot of them start to get busy in the fall with people coming up to see the colours."

"Aren't we a little old for all that?" he asked doubtfully.

"Aren't we a little old to be running away from home?" she countered, and he grinned.

"Touché. Okay, New England it is."


	25. Are you serious?

**Writing on a Blank Slate**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own CSI.

**Rating:** M for content of other chapters.

**A/N: **Once again, thank you for all the reviews. They make me so happy!

**Chapter 25: "Are you serious?"**

Another day on the road, another blend of highways and byways and towns that were all starting to look the same. The cold grey drizzle that had started to fall that morning didn't improve matters. Nick had to admit, if only to himself, that Sara wasn't the only one who was starting to miss working.

Not that he wanted to head back to Las Vegas. They had been reassured by Catherine and Grissom that they weren't going to be sued for breach of contract, but he doubted that the Powers That Be would be welcoming them back with open arms anytime soon, even if they wanted to go back, which they didn't.

"I still can't believe Ecklie quit," he remarked to Sara.

"Well, he didn't have a lot of choice." The rain intensified slightly, and she turned up the windshield wipers to compensate. "According to Catherine, the enquiry panel blamed his 'mismanagement' for us leaving. It was quit or end up as just another CSI: no way Ecklie could handle that."

"Do you think Catherine'll get his job?"

She shrugged.

"I don't know. She's got the people skills, and she can handle the politics better than Grissom ever could, plus she's a great CSI. She'll look good in front of the cameras too." Time and distance had succeeded where nothing else ever had in easing the tension which had always existed between the two female CSIs, at least on Sara's part. "They'd be nuts not to give it to her. She said she'd call us if she got it, right?"

"Yeah, she said she'd call."

They lapsed into silence again. Nick tapped his fingers idly on his knee as they waited at a stop-light.

"Hey Nick?"

"Yeah?"

"You still wanna get married?"

He laughed. "Yeah, of course."

She nodded, a wicked grin on her face. "Okay."

And with that she pulled off the road into the parking lot of a church.

"What're you doing?" Nick asked, surprised laughter welling up.

"I spent the last five years of my life in Vegas, Nicky. What do you think I'm doing?"

"Are you serious?"

"Yeah, I'm serious." Then she sobered. "What do you think? Should we do this?"

He looked at her for a moment, this woman he had known for five years, and yet had only really gotten to know in the past two months. The woman he had shared one of the craziest times of his life with. The woman he loved. As long as they were together, anything was possible.

"Let's do it."


	26. Epilogue

**Writing on a Blank Slate**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own CSI.

**Rating:** M for content of other chapters.

**A/N:** As they used to say in the cartoons "that's all folks!" LOL! Actually, I do have another fic planned that will fill in a few more of the blanks between this one and 'Familiar Strangers'.

**Chapter 26: Epilogue**

It would be easy to say that they lived happily ever after, but real life doesn't work like that. Nick and Sara didn't reach one perfect moment, to be frozen forever like an insect in amber. Instead, they lived and were happy, and the perfect moments came, unbidden, amidst the thousands of imperfect moments that make up a life lived together.

After Canada, they ended up in Vermont, where they spent the winter working in a small hotel in a ski resort. It was there that Sara realized she was pregnant. She was nervous. Nick was thrilled.

When the ski season ended they left Vermont, turning inland when they realized that otherwise they were going to end up in New York City. And one day, quite by chance, they stopped off in a small town. The Ford's engine, which had carried them faithfully over so many miles, was once again in need of repairs, so they made up their minds to stop for a few days.

It was while Sara was exploring the town on one of her solitary walks that it hit her that this could be home. The next day, after a chance conversation with the sheriff in the local diner, Nick found himself employed as the county's newest deputy. That settled it. They stayed.

They bought the old house on the hill. It's big, with five bedrooms, but kind of run-down; perfect for a growing family and a mother who has made home renovation her project for the foreseeable future.

The others visit them. Greg was the first, cheerfully throwing himself into helping Sara with her latest plans.

Catherine brought Lindsay, who spent the first three days whining about how much she missed Las Vegas, and the rest of her stay whining about how she didn't want to go home.

Warrick brought Tina, who was lovely.

Nick's family visited too, and welcomed Sara with open arms. They've been down to Texas a couple of times, but, what with the kids and a growing menagerie of pets, they mostly stay home.

The second time Greg visited, there were shadows in his eyes that hadn't been there before and he asked Nick whether the town needed another deputy. He was only half-joking.

Grissom still hadn't visited.

It isn't all perfect, of course. Sara took up photography and started working at the local mechanics, but she also started going to counseling. Nick loves his new job and his new family, but he has trouble leaving the kids with baby-sitters. They're getting through it. They get through it every day.

Life, as they say, goes on.


End file.
